'Then be so good as to give her my card, and ask if I may wait upon her.'
But Mr Broughton followed the servant down-stairs, and was ready to avail himself of the permission given, in a minute.
The servant thinking it her duty, lighted the gas before leaving the room; but she left it burning low, so that the lingering daylight prevailed over it. Though the reception-room was but a little parlour behind a shop, there was an air of refinement about its appointments, and the outlook into a mere yard was masked by a balcony full of blooming and odorous plants. The door which led into the shop remained open, probably for the sake of air; but to such a passionate lover of music as the visitor was, the sight of two or three pianos and a harp and guitar was rather suggestive of delightful ideas than of anything else.
Alice had risen from her chair, and advanced with outstretched hand to meet her guest; but she did not seem able to find a word of greeting.
'Alice!' exclaimed Mr Broughton, 'if I may still call you so, do I seem like one risen from the dead?'
'O no,' she replied; 'I never thought you were dead.' But as she spoke there was a faltering of her voice which shewed that she was agitated.
By this time both were seated, though a little way apart. Mr Broughton drew his chair nearer, and said softly: 'Alice, I come to ask you if it is too late to mend our broken chain?'
'But you are married; I heard that long ago,' exclaimed Alice with dignity. 'You have no right to allude to the past.'
'I have been a widower these two years,' was the rejoinder.
The explanations which followed need not be described in detail.